Chapter 16 Simon
SIMON
The air smelled like rain and wild grass that evening, the kind of scent that clung to everything after days of wind and damp.
I was halfway through the back garden, pulling out the last stubborn cluster of weeds that had grown between the cracked stones.
It sure is convenient being able to see in the dark while gardening, I thought. One of the perks of being a vampire, I suppose.
I tugged the earbuds halfway down my neck when I thought I heard something.
A sound too sharp, too human to belong to the wind. Laughter. Faint, then closer. It prickled the hairs on the back of my neck.
I froze. The house creaked behind me, old wood settling, but this was different. These were footsteps. Hasty, uneven, and coming fast.
I straightened, breath catching, and that was when my phone buzzed in my pocket. I fumbled it out, the screen lighting my dirt-streaked hands.
Kit: Get out now.
Kit: Hunters.
Kit: I’m coming. Just hide.
“Crap,” I muttered under my breath.
“There you are.”
The voice came from behind me. I turned slowly, telling myself not to panic. A man stood at the edge of the yard, tall and broad-shouldered, his grin a flash of teeth that didn’t reach his eyes.
He had a stake in one hand, the polished tip gleaming like he’d been waiting for this moment all his life.
“You don’t look that strong,” he said conversationally. “Guess Marcus was right. You won’t be much fun to play with.”
I didn’t wait to answer. Instinct took over. I turned and ran.
He was fast. Hunters always were. I barely made it three steps before he slammed into me from behind, knocking the air from my lungs as we hit the ground.
My phone flew somewhere into the weeds. I struggled, twisting, his weight crushing me down, a hand tangled in my shirt.
He raised the stake. I grabbed his wrist. The sharp edge caught the light, too close.
“I’ve killed plenty of your kind before,” he hissed. “They all beg.”
“Guess you’re not very good at it,” I ground out, shoving upward.
Kit had been donating his blood to me. I was stronger than I’d ever been. Adrenaline and fear also lent me an additional edge. I managed to twist, forcing him off-balance, and we rolled.
Still, the hunter was more experienced in combat. He punched me hard in the ribs. I felt something give and saw stars. The stake came down again.
I caught his arm, forced it aside. We were a tangle of limbs, dirt, and breathless curses.
The stake skimmed my shoulder, slicing shallow, the sting bright and hot. Then a shadow crashed into us from the side, and the hunter went sprawling.
“Get away from him!”
Kit.
He moved like fire. Raw, desperate, all muscle and fury. The hunter tried to rise, but Kit’s fist met his jaw with a sickening crack, sending him down for good.
The stake fell from his hand. Kit kicked it away, chest heaving. I sat there, stunned, half sprawled in the dirt.
Kit turned to me, his expression torn between anger and relief. “Are you okay?”
I nodded weakly. “I think so.”
Kit didn’t wait for me to say more. He hauled me against him, arms wrapping tight, almost trembling.
I felt the thrum of his heartbeat against my chest, the heat of him grounding me in a way nothing else could. Then his lips were on mine, quick and desperate, like he needed proof I was still real.
When Kit drew back, his forehead rested against mine.
“Thank god,” he whispered. “I thought I was too late.”
“Almost,” I said, my voice rough. “You have terrible timing.”
That earned a shaky laugh from him, but it didn’t last. He grabbed my hand, tugging me up. “We have to go. Now.”
“What?” I asked.
“I have a plan,” he said, eyes scanning the darkening trees. “I managed to slow the other hunters down, but not for long. They’ll wake up soon.”
The world was spinning, the reality of what was happening sinking in like ice water. Still, I let him pull me along toward the back gate. His grip was firm, grounding.
But as we turned the corner of the garden, a figure stepped into the path.
“Marcus,” Kit muttered under his breath.
He looked grimly at Kit, his eyes narrowing when they fell on me.
“I can’t believe my eyes,” Marcus said. “You really are protecting a monster.”
Kit shifted instantly, placing himself between us. “Get out of the way, Marcus.”
Marcus’s expression turned ugly, the grin twisting. “What did you do with the others, you traitor?”
“They’re fine,” Kit said evenly. “I only knocked them out.”
Marcus sneered. “You’re choosing this leech over us? Over the Guild? Over your family?”
Kit’s voice went low, dangerous. “The Guild’s not my family.”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Kit stepped forward, hand still behind him, brushing mine as if to reassure me.
“Now let us leave,” Kit said, “before I have to hurt you too. Because Simon’s the most important person to me and I’ll do anything for him..”
For a moment, even with the tension in the air, the words landed like sunlight. My chest tightened, throat aching.
Marcus’s eyes flicked between us, his jaw tightening.
“You’ve lost your damn mind.” His hand slipped under his jacket.
“Kit,” I warned.
Too late. Marcus pulled the gun free, the barrel glinting. He fired. The sound split the air. One deafening crack that tore through the stillness. Kit shouted, and instinct took over.
I grabbed him, pulling us both down into the dirt. The bullet hissed through the air above us, slamming into the fence with a sharp, splintering crack.
Marcus cursed and fired again, but we were already moving. I rolled, dragging Kit with me toward the side of the house. My body screamed in protest, but I didn’t stop.
Kit was already drawing his knife, eyes narrowed, every muscle coiled.
“Stay behind me,” he said.
“No chance,” I snapped.
Marcus came after us, stepping over the broken stones of the garden. The expression on his face was no longer smug. It was a grimace, pure and raw.
“Last chance,” Marcus growled, voice rough and low. “Move aside, Kit.”
Kit didn’t move. He didn’t even blink. He looked like the Kit I first met, the one who’d been all fight and fury, but there was something new beneath it now. Something raw.
“No,” Kit said finally, voice steady despite the tremor of danger hanging in the air. “You’ll have to go through me.”
Marcus’s finger tightened on the trigger. “Don’t make me do this.”
“Too late,” Kit snapped and lunged.
The two collided with bone-cracking force. The gun went off again, deafening, a flash of light that lit the garden in stark white for a split second.
The bullet tore into the wall behind them. Kit slammed Marcus hard against the bricks, the sound sharp and ugly.
“Kit!” I shouted, but they were locked in a blur of fists and grunts, too fast to separate.
Marcus drove his knee up into Kit’s stomach. Kit grunted, stumbled back, but only for a heartbeat.
He came back with an elbow to Marcus’s ribs, the impact so hard I felt it in my own chest. Marcus staggered, cursing, the gun swinging wild in his hand.
He swung it like a club, aiming for Kit’s head, but Kit ducked under, spun, and drove his knee up into Marcus’s gut. Marcus folded with a choked gasp. Kit wrenched his arm, trying to rip the gun away.
I scrambled to my feet, heart hammering so hard it drowned out everything else. There was a metallic tang of blood hung in the air. Marcus’s or Kit’s, I couldn’t tell.
My muscles screamed as I surged forward.
Marcus swung at me wildly, the butt of the gun catching my shoulder. Pain flared white-hot and I stumbled, teeth clenching.
“Stay back!” Kit shouted, but I ignored him.
Marcus raised the gun again, aiming for Kit this time.
Not happening. I lunged, grabbing Marcus’s wrist, shoving it upward. The shot fired into the air, ringing through the night like thunder.
His breath hit my face, hot and furious, and I could see the madness in his eyes. Marcus wanted me dead. He’d have killed me without hesitation.
We struggled, the gun twisting between us, his hand slick with sweat and blood. He was stronger, trained. But I was faster, desperate.
The smell of gunpowder filled my nose. My pulse pounded in my ears.
Then Kit was there. He clamped his hand over Marcus’s wrist, wrenching the weapon free with a raw, furious snarl.
Marcus tried to fight back, but Kit slammed his fist into his jaw, once, twice. Then Kit brought the butt of the gun down against the side of his head.
Marcus crumpled to the ground like a broken marionette. Silence crashed over us.
The taste of adrenaline was sharp on my tongue. The gun lay between us, gleaming faintly in the moonlight. Marcus’s body was still, chest rising shallowly.
I stared down at Marcus, and my fangs ached. His throat was right there. His pulse was faint, vulnerable. My instincts screamed at me to take it, to sink my teeth in, to feed.
Kit chose you, I reminded myself. Kit trusts you.
I forced the hunger back down, breathing through it until the trembling eased. I looked away.
“He’s still alive,” I said.
Kit didn’t answer right away. He was watching me with a look that stripped me bare. Then he nodded once and dropped the gun. “Good.”
He crouched, checked Marcus’s pulse, then fished into his jacket and pulled out a ring of keys. Without hesitation, he tossed them to me. I caught them, the metal cold in my palm.
“Come on,” Kit said, straightening. “We have to go. Now.”
He reached for me, fingers curling tight around mine, grounding me.
We ran. The night was a blur of shadows and wind. The weeds whipped at our legs as we sprinted for the front, the air thick with the scent of gunpowder and blood.
Every sound felt amplified. The crunch of our footsteps, the rasp of Kit’s breath, the faint echo of someone shouting in the distance.
The van sat crookedly near the gate, Marcus’s, by the look of it. The driver’s side door hung slightly ajar, the inside smelling faintly of oil and leather.
Kit scanned the shadows, his eyes sharp and restless.
“Drive,” he said, voice clipped. “We’ll ditch it in the next town, get something clean.”
I nodded, sliding into the driver’s seat. My hands shook slightly as I jammed the key into the ignition. The van rumbled to life, old engine groaning.
Kit jumped in beside me, slamming the door. “Go.”
I didn’t need to be told twice.
The tires spun over gravel, sending dust flying as we tore down the narrow road. The old house vanished behind the trees, swallowed by the dark.
I gripped the wheel tighter, forcing myself to breathe. The adrenaline hadn’t faded. It had only changed, coiled into something heavier in my chest.
I should’ve felt relief. Instead, all I felt was a deep, aching sadness.
That house had been the first place I’d felt safe in a long time. Our little corner of quiet. A sanctuary.
Now it was just another ghost.
I looked over at Kit. His hands were clenched in his lap, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the road ahead. There was blood on his sleeve, smeared across his cheek.
A bruise was already forming along his jaw.
“You’re hurt,” I said quietly.
He turned his head, and for the first time since the fight, his gaze softened. “You should see the other guy,” he said, voice hoarse.
“Kit—”
“I’m fine.” But his voice cracked on the word.
I reached out, brushing my fingers along his arm. “You could’ve been killed.”
“So could you,” he shot back. “You almost were.”
I flinched at the rawness in his voice.
“I told you to run,” he said, quieter now. “Why didn’t you?”
“Because I was gardening and didn’t see your texts,” I admitted, embarrassed.
Kit let out a low, shaky laugh that wasn’t quite a laugh. “You’re an idiot.”
“So are you,” I said.
He turned his head toward me, eyes gleaming faintly in the dim light. Something unspoken passed between us, heavy and charged.
Then I leaned over, heart still pounding, and brushed my lips against his cheek. His skin was warm, sweat-slick, the faint copper scent of blood lingering.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “For choosing me.”
Kit’s breath hitched. His hand came up, cupping the back of my neck, holding me there like he was afraid I’d disappear.
“I’ll always chose you,” he murmured.
He turned his head just slightly, and suddenly our mouths were a breath apart. His lips brushed mine. The kiss was tentative at first, then deeper and desperate.
It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was the kind you gave when you weren’t sure you’d ever get another chance.
When Kit finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine.
“We’ll have to keep moving,” he said softly. “They’ll come after us.”
“I know.”
“I burned my bridges tonight, Simon.” His voice shook. “The Guild won’t forgive this. Marcus will tell them—”
I pressed my hand to his chest, feeling his heart hammer under my palm. “Then we’ll disappear together.”
He huffed a small, disbelieving sound. “You make it sound easy.”
“Not easy,” I said. “Just worth it.”
Kit smiled faintly, the kind of smile that was half exhaustion, half wonder. “You have no idea how much trouble you’re worth.”
The van hit a bump, jolting us both, and I laughed quietly, the sound raw but real.
The road stretched ahead, narrow, dark, and uncertain. But with Kit beside me, every shadow felt a little less terrifying.
I reached for his hand again, our fingers tangling together over the console. He squeezed once, hard.